


The Favor

by WPAdmirer



Series: Chicago Stories II [13]
Category: E.R., X-Files - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WPAdmirer/pseuds/WPAdmirer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skinner needs a favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Favor

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTES: I got tired of waiting for some good John Carter slash, and there's never enough Skinner fic to suit me.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: It's not the author's intention to infringe upon or profit from the characters created and owned by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions or the Fox Network, nor Warner Brothers and NBC. Skinner and Carter were borrowed temporarily and returned almost immediately, relatively unharmed.
> 
> SPECIAL THANKS: To KiMeriKal and Crysothemis for beta reading and friendship.

Walter Skinner was already at work when he got onto the plane in Chicago. He'd called Kim from the terminal and spent the next hour on the plane drafting memos on things she'd told him about. Once on the ground in D.C. he hadn't had time to think about John Carter, Edson, or anything else that didn't relate to the reports on his desk, the agents waiting to see him, or the calls from the Deputy Director about various matters that all had a priority of right now.

It was after seven before he set aside the last folder on his desk and decided to call it quits for the day. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples with his fingers, trying to massage away the headache that had come on sometime between his meeting with the Deputy Director and a series of expense reports that required his approval.

Nothing had changed.

His hands dropped into his lap and he stared out into the room at nothing in particular. He was still here. John Carter was still in Chicago. Walter wished that he could, for just a moment, recapture some of the exhilaration he'd felt last night.

That wasn't going to happen.

He had to find out more about the Edson murder. He had to figure out if it was Krycek. There was one very big problem, though. He had to do it quietly. The Chicago police already had his name. A query from his office about the murder would send up enough red flags to have those two detectives on his doorstep in short order. That meant it had to come from someone else, and it had to be unofficial.

It hit him. They'd be perfect. There were just two little problems. He had no idea how to reach them, and he doubted they'd be willing to do anything for him. Walter hadn't exactly endeared himself lately to the Mulder camp. But those three had managed to track down his connection to John Carter with just his name. He imagined that getting access to a Chicago police report on a homicide would be only a minor challenge. He wasn't even sure what Mulder had called them. In Walter's head he had referred to them as the three stooges, but he knew damn well that wasn't right.

There was no way in hell he was going to get Mulder involved in this. First of all, if it was Krycek, he'd have to keep them from killing each other. The last thing he needed was a blood bath between those two. Not to even begin to deal with the fact that Mulder would turn this into something about the X-Files, the Consortium, and himself, not necessarily in that order. When it came to troubles in the world, Mulder was unaware that any existed other than his own. He was, without a doubt, the most ego- centric man on the planet.

Scully would know how to contact the three. They'd helped her when Mulder disappeared in the Caribbean. Walter smiled involuntarily. She'd been a veritable tornado passing through the halls, tearing up anyone and anything that go in her way. He could still remember his surprise at the kiss in the elevator. He was sure he'd blushed.

God! He stood up and grabbed his suitcoat. There was no time like the present to find out if Scully still felt she owed him a favor.  
***

When Scully opened the door she didn't look surprised to see him. She simply stood there, waiting for him to say something, indicating nothing. Not whether she would let him in, or tell him to go fuck himself, nothing.

"Agent Scully."

"Sir."

She really wasn't going to make this easy.

"I need a favor."

She stared at him a moment. Walter felt as though he were being scanned by some interior sensor she had behind her eyes. Then she stepped back and opened the door, voicelessly inviting him inside.

He didn't sit down and she didn't offer him a seat. They stood facing each other just inside her living room.

"There's been a murder in Chicago that I need to look into. I was thinking perhaps Mulder's three friends could help."

"The Gunmen."

That was what Mulder called them. "Yes."

"This has to do with John Carter."

It was a statement, not a question, and all Walter could do was nod in reply.

"Why not ask Mulder?"

"I think it's Krycek."

Scully's eyes widened. "Who did he kill?"

"A resident who was trying to blackmail John Carter."

"About you."

"Yes."

Scully seemed to think about this for a moment, then she turned and walked to her desk. She picked up her phone and hit speed dial. "Melvin, turn off the tape. This is Scully." The barest trace of a smile crossed her face as she listened to the reply. "I have Assistant Director Skinner here. We need your help. May I bring him to you?"

There was a pause, then she nodded at Skinner. "We'll be there in twenty."

She set the phone down and went to take her coat where it lay across the back of a chair. "My car or yours, sir?"

"Scully, you don't have to…, " Walter started, but Scully's look stopped him.

"Yes, I do, sir. If it's Krycek, it does involve the X-Files. Someone has to be there to cover our interests."

Walter sighed. She'd been with Mulder too long. "I'll drive."

She simply nodded and they walked out of the apartment together.


End file.
